


stupid cupid

by driftingcactus



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Flirting, Bad Humor, Cheesy, Fluff, M/M, mingi is a nervous wreck, mingi wooyoung n yeosang r best friends, the rest of ateez will show up eventually, yunho resident fuckboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 21:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingcactus/pseuds/driftingcactus
Summary: mingi can already imagine the headline, scrawled in bold font all over his brain.Breaking News! Song Mingi Revealed to Be Gay Catastrophe — Again!Find Out More About His Pathetic Love Life On Page 5!(or: yunho slowly becomes a constant in mingi’s life and mingi deals with it like anyone else would — terribly).





	stupid cupid

**Author's Note:**

> rated teen for cursing & mentions of alcohol! there’s also non explicit mentions of ppl hooking up. i think that’s its? 
> 
> soz in advance for the big “white fratboy named chad” energy yunho has
> 
> title from red velvet’s song by the same name!!
> 
> (#YUNHO: what if i... showed up everywhere ... to flirt with mingi...)

the first time he ever interacts with yunho, it's at some trashy frat party during the third week of his sophomore year in college, and he’s too drunk to remember what a filter is. 

mingi doesn’t even _ want _ to be there, would rather be curled up in his totoro hoodie, illegally streaming studio ghibli movies until he ran out of popcorn. but, here he is, spending his saturday night getting trashed off of canned margaritas in a crowded, dingy kitchen. _ i don’t even like margaritas, _mingi thinks fleetingly as he finishes off his third can. the cheap tang makes his nose wrinkle and the back of his throat burn unpleasantly, but he drains the rest of the can regardless. mingi was just trying to get drunk — it didn’t matter how shitty the alcohol was as long as it did the job.

he can’t really remember how long he’s been here, leaning on a sticky counter, and he knows that he probably should be getting home. mingi has half a mind to go look for wooyoung, but his brain is fuzzy and his legs are being more uncooperative than usual. mingi groans under his breath, furrowing his brows in annoyance. three cans definitely wasn’t a good option, but it’s not like he had anything _ better _to do at the party. wooyoung wandered off the moment they walked in and mingi wasn’t exactly the best at socializing, especially when he was sober, awkward and fumbling with his words whenever he met someone new. 

_ why’d i even let wooyoung convince me to come, _ he bemoans mentally. _ you can’t hear this, but you suck, wooyoung, and so does this party. _the bass of the overplayed pop song blasting from the next room over makes his head throb dully, and he throws back the first jell-o shot he can find on the counter. he scans the kitchen one more time for the black haired boy, but finds no sign of his obnoxious windbreaker anywhere. 

_ new objective, _ mingi thinks, pressing his palms against the counter to steady himself. _ find wooyoung and get out of here. _he knocks back another electric blue shot for good measure, which admittedly, isn’t the best idea, as he stumbles when he turns, knocking right into someone’s chest. 

“woah.” their voice is low and warm, one of their hands coming up to rest on mingi’s shoulder, steadying him, the other on his waist. “you alright?” 

mingi doesn’t register the words until he blinks a few times, squinting blearily at the figure in front of him. _ he’s tall, _mingi thinks, because his attention span is comparable to a 10 year old’s.

he spends a few more seconds blinking at the guy, wondering why he looks so familiar, before it hits him. 

jeong yunho, in all of his six foot something glory, is standing right in front of mingi, looking absolutely devastating with his black hair pushed off of his forehead, leather jacket clinging to him.

yunho had a bit of a reputation around kq’s campus — he was both talented and cute, notorious for leaving a string of broken hearts behind wherever he went. mingi thought he was kind of hot, not that he’d _ tell _anybody. 

it doesn’t matter, though, because it’s probably written all over his face in bold ink with the way that a hot flush goes up his neck. yunho’s slim, pretty fingers are curled delicately around the dip of mingi’s waist, only centimeters between them. mingi’s flush burns brighter and he wants to up and hide somewhere, or dig himself a hole. if he wasn’t good with people, he was worse with extremely attractive people whose touch burned through his clothes. 

“sure am,” mingi slurs, intelligently, sticking one of his thumbs up for good measure. the alcohol swirling around in his system bumps him up from a 5 to a 15 on the “reckless-and-embarrassing” meter, and he hopes for his own sake that he doesn’t remember this in the morning. 

despite mingi’s (drunken) assurance, yunho doesn’t move from his spot, raising an eyebrow as he rakes his eyes down mingi’s form, then back up again. his gaze burns just as much as the delicate hold he has on mingi, and he can’t will the red blooming on his cheeks to _ go away. _

“you look like you’ve had a little too much to drink,” yunho’s lip curls up, amused. his eyes honest to god sparkle, lined gently with smoky eyeliner. mingi feels a little starstruck. 

“that’s because i did!” the drunk boy grins, nose scrunching up, because he is pathetic, gay, and _ clearly _ enjoys making a fool out of himself. atleast he isn’t stuttering — perhaps the margaritas _ were _good for something. 

he feels the little bit of self control slipping from his grasp. _ probably shouldn’t have taken those jello shots, _ mingi’s conscience singsongs, sounding strangely like wooyoung. (who he’s _ supposed _to be looking for; having the attention span of a peanut was completely unhelpful in situations like this). 

while he’s mulling over his lack of an attention span, yunho bursts out laughing, hand coming up to cover his mouth as his eyes crinkle. mingi’s ape brain goes haywire and his heart starts beating wildly in his chest. he kind of feels like he’s gonna hurl — would it be appropriate to throw up on yunho’s shoes? the verdict: probably not. 

“are you always this adorable or is it because you’re drunk?” the question is gleeful, amusement taking over yunho’s face again, and mingi is too gay for this. 

winking greasily, mingi tries his best to look suave. “maybe you should find out.” 

yunho quirks a brow again, and he can’t hold back his smile from widening, but the moment is killed when mingi stumbles back and bangs his hand against the counter. 

the world: 1, song mingi: 0. 

“ow,” he hisses, cradling his hand against his chest, and yunho looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh.

“okay, cutie, i think you should probably be getting home. i’ll call you an uber, yeah?” yunho pulls his phone out from his pocket, and mingi feels his heart beating in his throat again. _ cutie, _he thinks, blinking up at yunho before he registers the rest of the sentence.

“oh, that's alright!” mingi says, way too loud for his liking. the corner of yunho’s mouth curls up again, and rubbing the back of his neck, mingi repeats himself, but quieter. 

“that’s alright. i live close by! i’ll walk, or something.” 

yunho clicks his tongue with a hum, shaking his head. “i don’t think you’re gonna be able to make it ten steps without stumbling.” his tone is teasing as he crosses his arms over his chest. mingi’s gaze totally doesn’t follow the moment. (it does). 

a moment of boldness overtakes mingi, and he looks up at yunho, grinning. “walk me home, then.”

_ (here lies future mingi. cause of death: drunk mingi’s ape brain, _his wooyoung-conscience says). 

surprise crosses yunho’s face for a moment, but his expression evens out into another amused grin.

“i could,” the tall boy says, evenly, eyes glimmering with mischief. “but we don’t even know each other. i could be an axe murderer, or something.” 

mingi bounces on the balls of his feet, humming in consideration. “you could be,” he mirrors, “but i don’t think you’d have the guts to kill me. your eyes sparkle too much to be a potential axe-murderer.” mingi’s voice is completely serious, and it doesn’t take more than a second for yunho to burst into laughter again. 

“you’re adorable,” yunho chuckles, and he sticks out his hand. “jeong yunho,” he grins crookedly, all of his (_ really straight, what the fuck—) _teeth on display. 

_ a handshake? that's so dorky. but also… kind of cute, _mingi thinks, before taking yunho's hand in his. it’s stupidly big, and the cool metal of his rings contrasts against the warmth of his skin. mingi can physically feel his ears burning.

“i’m—“

“mingi!” wooyoung bursts into the kitchen, neon windbreaker half sliding off of his shoulder. his hair is mussed completely, and there’s a dopey grin on his face. “i’ve been looking for you!” 

he tugs mingi away before he can interject, and mingi doesn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. as wooyoung determinedly weaves them through the throng of people, he settles for waving at yunho, who waves back lazily, corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. 

“that’s really interesting, wooyoung.” the loud music blasting from the speakers washes over his voice. “because _ i _ was looking for _ you _.” 

wooyoung spares him a bemused look from over his shoulder, earrings dangling with the movement. 

“were you?” he grins, sharp, waving down yeosang who’s leaning against the doorframe of the exit. he’s twirling his car keys over his finger, lips set into an almost-bored line. mingi doesn’t remember yeosang being at the party, but he’s not gonna question it. free ride! “because you seemed to be getting awfully cozy with yunho.” 

“yunho?” yeosang questions when they’re in earshot, opening the door so they can leave. he doesn’t smell like sweat, or alcohol, so mingi can only assume he showed up to take them to their dorm. “why are you guys talking about fuckboy of the month?”

“he was trying to get into mingi’s pants, or something,” wooyoung snorts, and yeosang pats mingi back reassuringly. 

“not bad,” he commends. “but you could probably do better, mingi.” 

“he’s nice,” mingi protests weakly, in defense, but wooyoung just cackles and yeosang unlocks his car without speaking. “and he wasn’t trying to get into my pants! we were just talking.”

“i don’t think you need to be standing that close to someone if you’re just talking to them,” wooyoung points out, smirking. “right, yeosangie?” he singsongs, and mingi wants to shove his big head right into the dashboard. 

“we weren’t even that close! besides, we really were just talking. he stopped me from falling on my face like a moron, and then offered to walk me home.” 

“you hear that, sang?” wooyoung sniffs, dramatically. “our baby is growing up. he was gonna be walked home! by a cute boy! oh, how time passes,” he fake sobs into yeosang’s shoulder, who shrugs him off, unaffected by drunk wooyoung.

“woe is me,” yeosang deadpans, shifting into another lane. 

“shut up, you big toe,” mingi pouts with a kick to wooyoung’s seat, burrowing into the worn leather of the backseat. “this is why choi san doesn’t want to make out with you!”

wooyoung’s fake crying halts, and he turns around slowly, wicked smirk spreading across his lips. 

“_ actually,” _ he drawls, and mingi screeches, shoving wooyoung’s face away before he can continue, causing the other to break out into hysterics.

“and you have the right to criticize me about _ talking _to yunho. gross! you’re a heathen! a harlot!”

wooyoung just winks, smug and self-satisfied, continuing to laugh as mingi calls him absolutely shameless. 

yeosang continues driving on, the small smile on his face being the only sign that he’s acknowledging them. it’s an interesting night, to say the least.

—

the next morning, mingi wakes up feeling like he got ran over by a garbage truck. three times. the drapes in his shared dorm are wide open, letting the sunlight in and _ effectively blinding him. _he groans, shoves his head under his pillow, and tries not to focus on the pounding of his head or the dryness in his throat. 

it doesn’t work, because not even two minutes later, mingi feels a body flinging itself on top of his. he almost cries — almost. 

“wooyoung,” he threatens, muffled by both the pillow over his head and the mattress. “if you don’t get up in three seconds i’m going to throw up on you. or kill you. maybe both, in that order.” 

despite his angry words spoken into his bed, the body doesn’t move, snuggled into his, and mingi’s migraine only gets worse. mostly, he’s grateful for wooyoung's existence. keyword being mostly.

sighing, mingi takes the pillow off his head and flops around, jostling wooyoung off of him. the other only grins down at him, reattaching himself to mingi, annoyingly smiley for a person who’s supposed to be hungover.

wooyoung pinches his cheek affectionately. “good morning, dumbass.” the pinch stings, and mingi imagines ways to kill him. orange wasn’t his color, though, and mingi wouldn’t survive a minute in prison.

“get off me before i burst into flames, wooyoung,” he whines, but wooyoung doesn’t budge. sometimes, mingi feels like he’s cursed. other times, he feels like the simulation runner just has it out for him. exhibit a: wooyoung. 

wooyoung looks all too smug for someone who has smudged remnants of eyeliner around the rim of their eyes and hair that sticks up in fifteen different directions. “do you remember what happened last night?” wooyoung asks, instead of moving.

“i just remember losing you, drinking an unholy amount of margarita, and then sang driving us home,” mingi answers cautiously. he wracks his brain for anything else, but only gets glimpses of sparkling eyes and the phantom feeling of a hand on his waist. weird. 

the tinier boy’s eyes narrow in amusement as he hums: “interesting… nothing else? no memories of talking to a certain.. _ tall _ boy?” 

mingi’s confusion doesn’t at all help the throbbing pain in his head. 

“literally, what do you want, baby gremlin?”

“you and a certain someone were flirting last night. or something,” wooyoung replies in lieu of an answer, because he is a vague, dramatic fucker who enjoys giving mingi heart palpitations. 

mingi falls off the bed. this would be completely unfunny if it wasn’t for the fact that he brought wooyoung down with him. 

song mingi: 1, jung wooyoung: big fat zero.

after cackling for a good three minutes, he looks at wooyoung and asks, “who the fuck would i be flirting with?” 

“wouldn’t you like to know?” the shorter boy picks at his nails, feigning disinterest. mingi pouts, and pokes wooyoung in the ribs, where’s he’s most ticklish. 

“i literally can’t think of anyone.” despite trying really hard to remember something else from last night, the only thing that comes to mind is someone’s warm smile. “wooyoung, my best bud in the whole world, please do me this one solid, and tell me.” 

wooyoung snickers, getting up from the floor. “i don’t know, gi, why should i?” 

mingi has half a mind to trip his best friend, but he doesn’t, out of pure laziness. hangovers did that to a person. 

“because you love me? because you’re a great person?” he tries, blinking up at wooyoung with a pout that he hopes is cute. 

wooyoung isn’t affected; he crosses his arms and grins at mingi, sticking out his tongue. “nah. it’ll be more fun to watch this play out.”

“you’re a terrible person,” mingi deadpans, glaring at the black haired boy, who’s upside down. unless mingi’s the one that’s upside down? his head is spinning again. 

“no, i’m just a master wingman,” wooyoung laughs out, delighted. “you’ll thank me for this one day!” 

“i hate you,” mingi actually tries to kick wooyoung’s shin this time, but his legs aren’t cooperating. wooyoung just winks.

“i’ll remember eventually,” he says, after a moment. mingi kind of hopes nothing happened between him and the mystery dude — he’d want to be sober for that; it’s not like he’s had a lot of experience flirting with other people. the thought is embarrassing, and he blushes up to his ears like a schoolgirl. 

“i’m banking on that, my precious dork!” 

mingi finally succeeds in kicking him. third time’s always the charm.

the rest of the day goes by in a blur — his hangover makes him too cranky to feel like doing anything. not once does he recall anything that happened last night.

—

the second time it happens, it's only a few days later. 

mingi literally doesn’t know why he signed up for a psych class at 9 am on a monday, of all days. he didn’t even need to take the class, and now it was too late for him to drop it. 

psych wasn’t even any fun — it was boring, ridiculously work-heavy, and he didn’t even know anyone well enough to be able to talk to them. mingi sighs to himself as he doodles in the margins of his paper, waiting for professor hong to start the lecture. 

the brown-haired boy doesn’t even realize someone walking up to the seat next to him until they speak.

“can i sit here?” the voice says, sweet, low, and way too familiar. mingi’s head snaps up, and there stands yunho, with his hair curled cutely around his forehead, hands shoved into his pockets. mingi swears this exact scene has played out before — maybe he’s getting deja vu, or something. 

“uh,” is all he can manage, causing the corner of yunho’s mouth to quirk up in amusement. mingi’s hands start to sweat — since when was yunho even in this class? he realizes that he’s been silent for too long when yunho speaks again.

“does ‘uh’ mean yes?” mingi _ swears _yunho’s teasing — has to be, with the way he’s biting back a smile. mingi can’t tell whether he wants to blush or scream. both, consecutively, he ends up deciding. 

“sure,” mingi finally gets out, nodding jerkily, but it’s weak, and his voice cracks at the end of the word. the world cackles at him. 

(song mingi: -2,999,999).

“thank you,” yunho almost hums, sliding into the seat as he beams at mingi. _ illegal! _is the only thought circling through his head at the sight of the other’s smile, heart beating out a staccato rhythm. yunho clearly catches the flush blooming on mingi’s cheeks, because his smile grows sharper, transforming into something slightly wicked, an unidentifiable gleam in his eyes. “cutie,” he tacks on, before turning back around in his chair. 

mingi is a fool. a big, gay fool, rendered speechless and flushing firetruck red because of _ one word. _he’s been called cute a bunch of times — so why was he so affected? (sure, most of his experiences with being called cute came from aunts who pinched his cheeks, but his point still stands). 

the warmth on his cheeks eventually cools down, and the rest of class is silent apart from professor hong’s voice. the silence doesn’t last nearly as long as mingi would like, because yunho turns back around, catching mingi staring at him. 

he quickly averts his gaze to the wall behind yunho’s head, cheeks flaming again despite his efforts to tamp the blush down. _ nice one, mingi, _he thinks to himself. 

either yunho doesn’t notice, or he pretends not to, because he just smiles at mingi, head cocked to the side. 

yunho’s smile turns slightly sheepish, and one of his hands goes to rub at the back of his neck. it’s incredibly endearing. “do you have a pen i could borrow? i don’t mean to bother you, but mine just ran out of ink.” 

mingi nods, not trusting himself to get out a sentence without his voice cracking. he rummages through the pencil case he has on his desk, and gives yunho the first pen he can find. 

which, of course, just so happens to be the only one mingi has with a totoro pen topper. he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s done in his past life to deserve being clowned non-stop.

yunho, who must be a god in hiding, or something, takes the pen with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t say anything about it. 

instead, he smiles, bright and absolutely radiant. “thanks, mingi! i promise i’ll have my own next time.” 

“you’re, um, welcome,” mingi manages to get out awkwardly, before realizing what yunho said. 

“wait. how do you know my name?” spills out of his mouth before he can stop it, and mingi clamps down on his bottom lip. at least he didn’t ask what yunho meant about _ next time. _

yunho’s eyes gleam with something unidentifiable again, but it's gone as soon as it came, a pout taking its place. 

“you don’t remember?” the question is asked innocently, but mingi can’t help but feel like there’s something he’s missing. 

he shakes his head, and yunho’s bottom lip juts out farther, leaning his chin on hand. despite the pout, yunho’s gaze glimmers with amusement when he speaks again. 

“i thought we had a moment after i caught you,” he sighs out, batting his eyelashes. “i guess not.” 

“what are you—“ mingi cuts himself off as the memories rush back to him. his ears burn red hot, and he catches yunho biting the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling. he was never gonna live this down. 

“you were the guy i was flirting with at the party?” mingi blurts out, _ way _ too loud. even professor hong stops talking in the middle of his sentence to give mingi a _ look _ before resuming. forget not having a filter when he was drunk — clearly, his filter didn’t exist at all anymore. 

yunho’s pout stretches into a lopsided smile. “you’re just as dorky when you’re not drunk.” it isn’t said to insult him, but instead as a compliment, and mingi sputters pathetically. he opens his mouth to say _ something, anything, _but professor hong dismisses them for the day. 

yunho presses the pen back into mingi’s hand, sweeping his book bag onto his shoulder. 

“thanks again for the pen, mingi. i’ll see you around, yeah?” he walks past mingi to leave, but stops, turning back around. 

“oh, and if you thought i was flirting with you at that party — you haven’t seen anything yet, cutie.” 

with a wink, he walks out, leaving mingi speechless for the millionth time today. the totoro pen topper’s smile seems almost mocking as it looks up at him. 

—

the next few days consist of running into yunho at the least convenient times. it’s really a hassle, and not particularly good for his poor, poor heart. 

after the psych-_ incident, _ as mingi dubbed it, much to yeosang’s amusement, yunho shows up _ everywhere. _mingi can’t particularly tell whether it's a coincidence or not. mingi’s grandmother once told him that once someone had your attention, they seemed to always be around. while that could’ve been true, the 2nd year couldn’t help but feel like cupid was picking on him, or something. 

mingi’s having lunch with yeosang and wooyoung at the new ramen place a block away from campus, when he brings it up. 

“maybe it’s fate,” yeosang sounds completely serious, pursing his lips contemplatively. part of mingi thinks he’s being sarcastic, and his suspicions are confirmed when yeosang makes eye-contact with wooyoung and they both burst out laughing. 

“assholes,” mingi hisses, without any heat. he throws his balled up napkin at yeosang’s head, but it completely misses and lands somewhere near wooyoung’s dr. pepper bottle. 

yeosang’s eyes crinkle as he suppresses another laugh, and he shakes his head. “nah, all jokes aside,” yeosang starts, pinching the back of wooyoung’s neck when the shorter boy tries to steal some of his ramen. wooyoung drops the noodles onto the table with a frown, glaring at yeosang, who pointedly ignores him. it's “i wouldn’t think too much of it, gi. it’s probably a coincidence.” 

“or,” wooyoung pipes up, picking up a stray noodle and dropping it down yeosang’s hoodie. “yunho’s trying to get your attention. he thinks you’re cute, doesn’t he?”

mingi frowns, staring down at his lap. normal, not awkward people, who grasped the concepts of relationships would brush it off, probably. mingi was not one of those people. he doesn’t think he’s ever had a _ real _ relationship, which is kind of pathetic, since he’s _ nineteen, _so even harmless flirting caused him to overthink. like he was doing right now. he sighs out: “i mean, i guess? i don’t know. doesn’t he like. flirt with a lot of people anyways? it probably doesn’t mean anything.” it sounds more insecure than he was aiming for. 

yeosang and wooyoung share a _ look, _which makes him feel worse, and he’s back to twiddling his thumbs. 

“well,” yeosang clears his throat. “he may be a fine piece of ass, but i for one, don't like him. so,” he cuts himself off, voice softening. “be careful, or whatever. i don’t want you to get your feelings hurt.” 

mingi doesn’t really know how to reply. _ thank you, _ maybe, or _ i don’t have feelings for yunho you don’t need to worry. _ neither of them feel particularly right, but wooyoung, as always, breaks the atmosphere by being a little shit. snorting, he claps yeosang on the back. “sang, the only reason you don’t like him is because he hangs with those seniors. the ones who you wish you could hang out with. you know, the ones who you think are _ really ho-“ _

yeosang not so subtly pushes wooyoung out of his chair. the tips of his ears are bright red, and he clears his throat again. 

he would be the perfect image of nonchalance if it wasn’t for the blush running down his neck. “i have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” 

the yunho crisis is forgotten again, in lieu of witnessing the great woosang war play out in front of his eyes. most of wooyoung’s ramen gets forgotten — it’s a sad day for noodlekind. 

—

later that night, wooyoung sends mingi out to the minimart to pick up reese’s puffs and a gallon of milk. mingi didn’t understand why the fuck wooyoung _ needed _ to have reese’s puffs when it was precisely 11:36 pm, but one accidental glimpse at his messages with _ choi san, _of all people, explained it. he appreciated wooyoung taking a more subtle route instead of straight up sexiling him. 

as he’s slipping on his shoes, wooyoung calls out: “oh, and take your time!” mingi doesn’t even want to _ think _ about what will happen if he comes back too early, a shudder running down his spine. he has walked in on wooyoung too many times already — there was no need for another tally to be added to the _ times i’ve witnessed wooyoung hookup with people _chart. 

there’s not a lot of people inside the minimart, which he’s grateful for. while hello kitty was a style icon, his pink patterned pajama pants weren’t exactly a fashion statement. 

after wandering around the store like a lost puppy, he finds the cereal aisle near baking needs, and sure enough, boxes of reese’s puffs. 

they’re stacked on the topmost shelf, which usually isn’t problem for mingi — keyword being usually. despite being pretty tall, the reese’s puffs are just out of reach, mingi only being able to graze his fingers against the box. huffing, he goes on his tiptoes, stretching his arm out as far as he can, but to no avail. 

_ wooyoung is the literal bane of my existence, even if he isn’t present, _mingi curses as he tries really hard to grab the box, only succeeding in pushing it back further. mingi almost wants to suck it up and ask the cashier for help, but before he can work up the courage to do so, a hand appears above his head, and successfully takes down the box of reese’s puffs. 

spinning on his heel to thank whoever grabbed the box for him, mingi ends up seeing none other than yunho. the gratitude dies down on his tongue and he almost laughs at his shitty luck. 

“y’know, i’m only like, a centimeter taller than you,” yunho grins, the disney-princess sparkle brightening his eyes. it takes a lot of effort to not ask yunho how his eyes literally sparkle. “so you should’ve been able to grab that box.” 

the black haired boy looks entirely too good for someone wearing a hoodie and nike sweatpants, the definition of attractive, and mingi’s throat maybe goes dry. _ no one should be allowed to effortlessly pull of anything, _mingi grumbles mentally, before realizing that he’s been staring silently.

his neck feels warm, and one hand goes up to rub at the back of it. “i guess your arms are just longer,” mingi chuckles, accepting the box of cereal from yunho. “thank you, though.” (he isn’t stuttering, for once. maybe the simulation runner finally took pity on him).

yunho shrugs with one shoulder, still wearing that dumb (_ really cute) _grin. “it was nothing,” he hums, running a hand through his hair. “another day in the life of jeong yunho, resident cereal box retriever.” 

unconsciously, mingi ends up letting out an embarrassing snort, which just leads to yunho breaking out into another smile that takes up half of his face. the warmth spreads to the back of his neck. 

before he can overthink, mingi ends up saying, “you’re kind of a dork, aren’t you?” yunho’s smile melds into something more coy, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he deliberately lets his gaze drag down mingi’s body.

“hmm, i wouldn’t go around calling other people dorks while wearing hello kitty pajamas,” yunho simpers, one hand motioning to the absolutely _ embarrassing _pink pajama pants mingi has on. (nope, guess not. life still had it out for him — once again, mingi doesn’t know what he did to deserve being embarrassed every two seconds of his life). 

flushing bright red, mingi fumbles with his words, stuck between calling out in mortified indignance and melting into the floor. he isn’t capable of doing either. 

yunho doesn’t stop there though. he tilts his head, considering, and hums out: “you still look cute, though. don’t worry; somehow you’re pulling it off.” 

mingi sputters again, and the taller boy throws his head back to laugh. 

“do you get off on embarrassing people?” he manages to respond, but it's weaker than mingi wants it to be, and yunho keeps on laughing.

assessing mingi once more, he winks. “nah, i just like seeing you blush.” 

(song mingi: negative one billion).

“you’re shameless,” mingi mumbles, weakly, and yunho shrugs again, corner of his mouth tugging upwards. 

“maybe i am. aside from that, as much as i like running into you at parties and corner stores,” he laughs, “i think i would prefer seeing you over a cup of coffee.” 

mingi doesn’t even know how to respond, so he says the only thing he can: “what?” 

“i’m asking you out, mingi.”

“what? like... on a date?” 

rolling his eyes with another smile, the black haired boy pulls out a pen from the pocket of his sweatpants (why it was in there, mingi didn’t know), and gently grabs hold of mingi’s forearm. the cap of the pen is between his lips, and he scribbles something on mingi’s skin carefully. 

“text me. or don’t,” he winks, turning around and walking down the aisle without another word. 

in the midst of gaping down at the numbers written on his arm, mingi manages to call out, “but we barely know eachother!” 

“that’s kind of the point, sunshine! i’m trying to get to know you!” yunho replies without turning around, and mingi can already imagine the borderline smirk stretching on his lips. 

waggling his fingers in a semblance of a wave, he adds, “hopefully i’ll see you soon, cutie mingi!” and promptly leaves the store.

mingi’s left alone with the box of reese’s puffs danglingly loosely in his hands. he can still feel yunho’s touch on his arm, and blinks down at the numbers wearily. 

the cashier rings up the box with a bored pop of her gum. it isn’t until after leaving the store that mingi remembers he didn’t get milk.

(when he gets home, he spots san and wooyoung lounging on wooyoung’s twin bed, watching something on the small screen of his laptop. they’re both dressed, thank _ god, _and mingi tries not to acknowledge the line of red marks winding down san’s neck as he nods his head in the form of a greeting. 

wooyoung pouts. “you forgot the milk!”

“i, um. got caught up with something,” mingi doesn’t really want to go into detail about how he ran into yunho with yunho’s own best friend sitting _ right there. _

wooyoung’s about to complain in response, but he catches the numbers written out across his arm, and shuts up promptly.

“_ oh ho, _i see,” his best friend smirks, smug, throwing in very non-subtle wink. 

mingi tosses the box of cereal on wooyoung’s lap and flops onto his bed without dignifying the other with a response. he may or may not spend the rest of the night wondering whether he should text yunho or not. ultimately, mingi decides against it). 

**Author's Note:**

> this accidentally became the longest thing i’ve ever written,, and all bc i was in my yeels (yunho feels)
> 
> to end off this chapter . stan atz


End file.
